


The Sin of Value

by fraufi666



Category: Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand
Genre: BDSM, Brother/Sister Incest, F/M, Guilty Pleasures, I'm Going to Hell, Nudity, Power Dynamics, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sorry Ayn Rand, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8760697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraufi666/pseuds/fraufi666
Summary: James Taggart has continually hated his sister Dagny for having her way with everything in life and outperforming him in everything possible. Upon finding out that she had accepted highly unpopular metal produced by the wealthy Hank Rearden, Taggart is driven to stop her. Yet in the process, he uncovers more about himself than he could possibly imagine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction based on Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. While the main characters and situation with Rearden metal are from the novel, everything else is entirely from my imagination. This is one of my favourite books, so I mean no disrespect to Ms Rand, her works or her philosophy. This may contain spoilers from the novel.

He clutched the newspaper in dismay. The headline, with its stark black letters seemed to be a mockery to his success. 

_Taggart Transcontinental links with Rearden Metal.  
_

Everything he had tried to do was in vain. And once again, it was his enemy who had succeeded. The phone began to ring and he picked it up gingerly, as if it were a ferocious animal that was ready to bite his hand. 

"Taggart, did you see the news?" His secretary called on the other end of the line.

 "What do you think?" Taggart barked. The paper shook in his clenched fist. "That damn woman...she thinks she can just waltz in and ruin everything?" The headset was already feeling slippery with perspiration and he had to wipe it with a handkerchief before it slipped out of his hand. 

"You surely don't mean that." She suggested gently, "Aren't you the least bit proud?” 

"Why should I be?! I was against this idea from the very start." Taggart retorted.

 "But James..." The secretary continued, as if he had not said a word "...she is your sister.”

 Taggart slammed the phone down, putting his head into his hands. There it was. Those words that he had hated to hear spoken. _  
_

_Your sister_.  

Dagny this, Dagny that. It was always about her. From a young age he had always watched his sister succeed in everything which he was unable to do. Even though he was older, he was somehow in the shadow of her achievements, always underperforming his role as a male Taggart heir. It would not be so bad, he thought to himself, if she were a stranger. There were strangers who had always gone against him throughout his career. But the fact that she was his own flesh and blood unnerved him in ways that he could not explain. He frowned, unable to turn back to whatever he was working on. He decided to settle this once and for all. Standing up quickly, he started to make his way to her office, the paper in his hand. 

"What is the meaning of this?!" He screeched, shaking the newspaper in her face. "Are you satisfied? Now we're going to be supporting a big capitalist like Rearden to manufacture the metal for our line!" Dagny crossed her legs, her gray eyes staring at him tiredly. Now that he thought of it, she was staring through him, as if his presence made little difference to her. 

"Well? Say something! This is my reputation that will be dragged through the mud too!” 

She blinked. "What is it that you want me to say?” 

He widened his eyes, his face now scarlet. “Were you not listening to a word I just said?” He demanded. “I want you to break that alliance with Henry Rearden, that’s what! We were meant to be giving the smaller companies a chance, and now you’ve let a man who already has so much money to work with us!” He began pacing the room madly, throwing his hands in the air. “What will my boys in Washington say about this?!” He whined in panic. 

“Not my problem.” Dagny responded curtly, leaning back in her seat.  

“What do you mean it’s not your problem?!” Taggart shouted. “You’ve undermined everything this company stood for! What will Orren say about this? We’re in this together. And you’ve…you’ve ruined everything.” 

“I thought you didn’t like Orren.” Dagny started, 

“WELL OF _COURSE_ I DON’T!” Taggart shouted, as if in defence. “But now we look more greedy than he is!”

She folded her arms calmly. “Well, Jim? What are you going to do about it?” 

“REVERSE IT!” He screeched, “Tell your capitalist friend that we have no interest in using his unsafe metal! You heard the scientific reports. They did several tests and found it to be hazardous to not only our company but to every other person who uses it.” His eyes clouded as he stared at Dagny in horror “We’re gambling with people’s lives!” 

Suddenly, against his expectations there was a giggle. Dagny’s face was flushed, her hand to her mouth as she could not stop herself from laughing at the circus that was happening right in front of her. Taggart looked at her in surprised, struck by the overwhelming femininity of her behaviour. “Oh Jim…” She began, trying to stop herself from laughing any more “Must you think the worst of things?” In his shock, he had not noticed that she was out of her chair and had placed a hand on his shoulder. It was perhaps the most affectionate gesture he had ever received from her. “Just trust me on this.” The hand resting on his shoulder gave it an encouraging squeeze. Then, the grey eyes flickered back to his face and she had returned to her desk, as if nothing had happened. “Now, please leave my office. I am very busy.”

“You…” Taggart gasped. But before he could process any more of what had happened, he was out of her office, his face still burning as if she had slapped him. 

_That bitch._ He thought darkly. Even though he had come into her office to try and discourage her from taking a dangerous business decision, she had refused to listen to him. She had played him like a toy, and laughed at his face in the process. _I will ruin her I swear I will._ Right now the only thing that seemed to matter to him most was undoing all of her work. She had to pay.  

Taggart spent the rest of the day making anxious phone calls to his colleagues and all those he had agreed to do business with. As each drop of sweat fell from his forehead, he felt his own reputation evaporate. 

“Yes.” Taggart replied, sounding calm even though he was doing everything in his power to stop himself from screaming about the unfairness of the situation. “It will only be temporary. I’m sorry about my sister’s decision. It was not a wise one. No, she did not run it past us. No, none of us saw it coming. But it will be okay, I assure you. Don’t worry; we will improve things for you sir. Sir? Sir?” 

After the last person hung up on him, Taggart slammed the receiver back on the cradle and gathered up his things, furious but defeated. He needed to go home to rest from all of this chaos. None of this was his fault, and yet all of his supporters and business partners were blaming him and treating him like the enemy. Dagny should be taking the blame instead. It was her own reckless idea that got them into the situation in the first place, but she was probably miles away with something else he never quite understood. Despite all of the years they had spent together, he could never understand her. 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Exhausted and still frustrated from today’s events, Taggart had closed his eyes as soon as his head had hit the pillow. But just when he thought he was alone in the dark, he felt a figure sitting down in front of him on the bed. Blindly, he fumbled for the bedside lamp, and reached to turn it on.

Yet the figure had swooped forward, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from the light, from his own sense of security. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, struggling to pull away from the figure. Kidnapped! He thought in terror. And with that, he started to scream.

“Let go of m-“

Another hand cupped over his mouth and he could not force out another cry. The figure had sat directly on his lying form, one leg on each side of his torso. He squirmed, realising how light the figure was on his body. This was not the body of a thug. Gently, the hand had let go of his mouth, running a hand against his face. Then, a face that he still could not see in the dark hovered before his, strands of long hair falling forward and brushing against his cheek. He shivered as the face moved closer. Soft, gentle lips met his own and he gasped, reciprocating instantly, unable to stop himself. Even though the feeling the lips had on him was that of pleasure, he could not ignore a stabbing pang of guilt.

“No…” He moaned between kisses “I can’t…”

He opened his eyes, panting heavily and alone. The room was exactly the same as he had left it when he had fallen asleep. He rolled over, sighing. A dream. His heart was still pounding. Why had it felt so vivid? He frowned. It must have been stress from work. It was all Dagny’s fault. He never had such frightful dreams before, at least not before Dagny had agreed to use that dreadful metal. Shuddering, he knew that he had to do something about this. 

He jolted out of bed, pacing to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. The cold shock had woken him properly and he started to assess the dream properly. Never, had he had a dream quite like this one. He could not figure out who the woman was. It was rare for him to be so infatuated with women. It was just not proper. Taggart had always prevented himself from staring at a woman too long.

"God damn it!” He cursed, knocking the basin in frustration. His toothbrush fell into the sink. Never had a dream left him so frustrated, so puzzled. Who was that woman and why did he dream of her? It could have been anyone. He tried to go through the faces of the women he had met at parties, friends of friends, the office…even the pretty women who had served him at restaurants. But their faces never seemed to stay in his mind properly. They all blurred together, becoming a face he did not want to think about again.

He closed his eyes. He needed to speak to Dagny tomorrow. He was not going to let her have her way this easily. 


	3. Chapter 3

He stormed into her office first thing in the morning. Dagny was already sitting at her desk, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. He glared at the paper in discontent. She was making more plans without him, no doubt.

“Well?!” He asked, as if expecting her to know what he was thinking. 

She looked up at him, the grey eyes first startled and then addressing him coldly once more. “Jim. What is the matter now?” The way she asked him sounded more like a tired statement, rather than a question as if she had grown used to her brother complaining about something.

“It’s Rearden.” He said wrinkling his nose, “You have to break off the deal with him, or I will!”

Dagny sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I thought we were going to give him a chance on this. I am willing to take responsibility for whatever happens with the rail. We’ve already established this.”

“No! No!” James Taggart’s face was scarlet “Not _we_! _You_ did! You and that horrible Rearden went behind my back and discussed the rail. Now, I want you to reverse it.”

“I am not stopping you if you want to reverse it.” Dagny responded tiredly. “Just hurry up and reverse it instead of yelling about it.”

Taggart clenched his fists. He walked up to her closer. “Look here. You may be my sister, but that gives you no right to disrespect me! _I’m_ the president of Taggart Transcontinental, not you!”

Rather than fear, the woman’s eyes were just filled with boredom. She had heard it all before. Typical James. Always getting upset about things but being incapable of changing them. She rested a chin on her hand, her hair falling in front of her face as she did so. Like him, it looked as if she had barely slept, for her hair was in disarray and she was still wearing yesterday’s suit. Yet as he watched her, he felt his stomach shift. He could feel those strands brushing against his face, as if she was leaning towards him. He gasped involuntarily.

“Are you okay?” She asked, suddenly concerned.

He looked back at her, blushing madly as if she had uncovered his own secret. “No, I’m not!” He responded angrily. “I think I’ve got a flu, thanks to you and your stupid plans. How am I going to get to the meeting now?”

Dagny bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. But as she did this, he was looking at her again with the same blankness in his eyes. His face had turned redder than he had wished as he remembered the kiss in his dream. He inwardly cursed himself for remembering such an inappropriate thought at such a time like this.

“You…” He began, trying to piece together another sentence, “I…I need air!” He choked, and with that he raced out of her office before she could say another word. As he scrambled through the building, colleagues looked at him in surprise, some in concern. A couple of them had called out his name, yet he ignored them, too ashamed, too frightened to speak to anyone about what he was thinking. All he had wanted to do was reverse the partnership of the metal, and yet a disgusting thought from last night had to resurface, right when he had least expected it. He could imagine their voices if they knew.

_If James Taggart can’t control his thoughts, how can we expect him to run the railroad?  
_

_Taggart is a nasty lewd pervert. There is no way I want to ever do business with that man.  
_

_What was he even doing, panting red-faced from Dagny Taggart’s office?_

“Shut up!” He shouted at the voices. Yet all he got in response were confused glances as employees glided past him, now too nervous to ask him any questions. He hated the way they looked at him, but it was better to be pitied than to be hated, he realised. They did not know the extent of his thoughts and he breathed a sigh of relief remembering this.

Once outside, he felt slightly more at ease. Already the cool air was beginning to settle him and he turned to face the sunlight. Yet as he did so, the statue of Nathaniel Taggart blocked the light. He grimaced at the upright, proud posture and turned away instantly. He did not want to be reminded of his family, especially not someone who was as selfish as Dagny herself. 

He slapped a hand against his face. Not Dagny again! Why did she have to keep interrupting his thoughts? He was just about to stand up, until he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder. A homeless man looked up at him. 

Immediately, he handed the man a note and started heading off.

“Sir!” The man called,

Confused, Taggart turned around. Was it not enough? He started to reach into his coat pocket for his wallet again. If anything, he refused to appear as selfish as Dagny. 

The man immediately held his hands up to halt him. “No no, sir. I do not want any more money.”

Taggart raised an eyebrow. “Then what else could you possibly want?” He asked. He thought a little, “A job? If it’s a job you want-“

“No no. None of that. It’s not me who wants something. What do _you_ want, Mr Taggart?”

Immediately, he stepped back defensively, taken aback not only because the man had knew his name, but because he had said it so formally.

“Please don’t hurt me.” Taggart begged. He had heard stories of the poor mugging the wealthy. A mad thought had come to mind: He would part with all of his money if this avoided a fight.

The homeless man chuckled, “Don’t be ridiculous. “I just think you could do with some help.” His tone and mannerisms was too refined to be that of a thug. But this did little to reassure him. If anything, it had made him more of a threat.

“Nonsense!” Taggart snapped, as if insulted. “I’m wealthy. I don’t need help. It’s people like you that I must help. How much do you want? Name your price.”

The man shook his head. “James Taggart.” He said politely, offering a hand, “I do not want anything. I just want to be a helpful ear. I couldn’t help but notice that you looked a little tense leaving the office.”

Taggart looked at the man’s hand. The nails were a lot cleaner than he had anticipated. Gingerly, he extended his hand to meet him. Beneath the man’s cap however, he caught a glimpse of self-assured, calm eyes. It was the same look that Dagny had. Quickly, he drew away in disgust.

“Get away from me!” He shouted. And with that, he hurried back to the office. 


	4. Chapter 4

Crowds poured through the ballroom. Taggart stared at his glass. He had still not been able to reverse the decision and he was still being given pressure for it. Yet to avoid his image from being more damaged, he had to go to a party that the board had decided to host. He was relieved that at least Dagny was nowhere to be seen. She probably considered herself too above such events. He smiled and shook hands with some of the men from Washington who spotted him. This was where he belonged, he realised. With the people. He exchanged a few simple words with them. Small talk was always a talent of his.  

“So, Mr Taggart…” one of the men began. Taggart immediately pasted a smile on his face. The man was one of the governors and there was no way he had wanted to disappoint him. “You have decided to use the Rearden metal?” 

He felt his stomach flutter and his mind had grown blank. Now he needed Dagny’s help. How could he discuss something he did not really believe in, let alone participate? What would Dagny do? He forced himself to keep smiling, swishing his drink in his glass in order to buy himself more time. 

“Ah…well...” All eyes were on him now and he could not get it wrong. “Da-“ he could not bring himself to say her name, “ _We_ think it would be an idea worth trying out.” 

“It does sound like a good idea.” Someone else said. He could feel his confidence returning. There were a few murmurs and people were nodding the heads in approval. Perhaps the metal was a good idea after all. 

“That’s why I came up with it in the first place!” He responded triumphantly.  

“It’s disastrous.” Someone replied curtly. “You’re going to risk all these lives on unapproved metal.” 

Taggart began to perspire. “…um..that’s what we thought.” He said quickly, trying to save himself. He started to chuckle nervously, as if he was just joking, “We’re going to test it out, first. We’ll do all the necessary tests and so on.”  

A hush fell over the crowd. He felt slightly less worried. They were no longer looking at him, let alone expecting him to explain any further. There was something else that had seized their attention. Just when he thought that he was free from all embarrassment, he followed the crowd’s gaze. But nothing had prepared him for what he was about to see. 

Dagny Taggart had walked into the room. She wore a long, black dress that sparkled under the light of hundreds of chandelier crystals. Her shoulders were bare, and she wore no jewellery, apart from a strange greenish-blue metal bracelet, which did not look like anything that belonged in a fashion catalogue. But she wore it proudly and to Taggart’s disappointment it suited her. The dark satin hugged her figure, which was not only one of power, but of feminine elegance. 

Behind him, there were a few whispers. “What the devil is she wearing?” A woman asked in a disgusted, hushed voice.  

“Look at her, acting like she owns the whole place.”

Taggart felt his ears burn and quickly had to confront her. She had a lot of explaining to do, leaving him in the lurch to defend for an idea that she had put forward. He had to speak to her, to get her alone. Yet she had looked past him and instead went over to the corner where Hank Rearden was standing. Like her, Rearden’s posture was erect and proud. Even though the two had seemed so strange in the room amongst the others, it was not them who were out of place: they had made everyone else seem out of place instead. 

The music started to play again and people clustered into separate groups as if nothing had happened. But Taggart knew whom they were all gossiping about. And now, he had to stop them. 

He waited until all eyes had turned away from Dagny before he began to walk towards her. Yet she was too much in conversation with Rearden. The other man had knelt close to her to say something in her ear and she nodded. Then, the two began to walk out of the room, as quickly as Dagny had arrived. Taggart surreptitiously walked after them, looking back over his shoulder to make sure that there were no onlookers. 

The two had gotten into an elevator. Rearden had pressed for the top floor. Taggart tried to pick up his pace, but the doors started to close. “No, wait!” He shouted. But he was too late, and the elevator had whisked them away. He jabbed at the elevator button next to it, but the elevator was taking too long. Thinking quickly, he turned and then bolted up the stairs. 

It was a long way up and Taggart could feel his shirt sticking to his skin. His breathing had become haggard and he regretted acting so spontaneously. He did not know what had come over him to make such a long, painful journey upwards. But he could not stop now. He had to keep going. 

Once he had made it to the top floor, he slipped into the room. The door was unlocked. Rearden and Dagny would have already been inside by now. He could hear their voices. They were getting louder as they walked closer to where he was standing. The possibility of getting caught was now significantly greater. Heart in his throat, he launched straight into the closest room and shut himself in a closet. Peering through the wooden slits, he could see the two now walking into the room. To his horror, he realised that he had stumbled into one of the bedrooms. 

Rearden had removed his coat and his tie was already undone. 

“I wish they wouldn’t invite me to these ridiculous events.” He sighed, sitting down on the bed. It was clear that he was relieved to be away from the party. 

“I wouldn’t have gone either…” Dagny started to say, but she stopped. He was looking at her and he knew exactly what she was about to say. His hand rested on hers, for he felt grateful that she had come for him. 

“How did your brother react to the news?” Rearden asked, changing topic. Taggart’s eyes widened for they were talking about him. He pressed his ear against the wood, so not to miss anything that was about to be said by him. 

“Let’s not talk about him.” Dagny said, much to Taggart’s disappointment. She started to stroke Rearden’s thigh. “I’ve had enough of Jim for one day. Let’s make tonight about us.” Taggart scowled. Selfish people. He should not have expected anything more.

Rearden smiled and leaned towards her, kissing her on the lips. Taggart’s pulse quickened, but he was trapped, unable to get out of the closet. There was no way he was able to escape without getting caught. He did not want Dagny, let alone the press asking him questions on why he was in their hotel room. At the time when he was going after her it seemed like the right thing to do. But now he had felt dirty and wrong, just as he did during that dream.  

Rearden started to unzip her dress. It fell to the floor, a puddle of black ink. Her hands were in his hair as he held her in his arms, pushing her onto the bed and kissing her more fully on the lips. She reciprocated, running a hand against his back.  

Taggart could not bring himself to look. But at the same time, he could not bear to turn away. He did not know a great deal about Dagny and now it was his chance to learn more. As he watched the two, he was reminded of the figure that sat on him, kissing him on the lips in the dark. How it would feel, he wondered, if it were he on the bed instead of in the narrow closet? 

_No._ He forced himself to push aside such thoughts. The man was his enemy and the woman…the woman was not only his enemy but also his sister. He could not be thinking of such sinful thoughts. Yet as his eyes were locked to them, he felt a feeling of pleasure stir in unspeakable areas. The closet now felt suffocating. He had to leave, and fast.  

With each breath and each tremor of pleasure, Taggart felt the closet getting smaller and smaller. He tugged at his collar, trying not to breathe too loudly in case he was overheard. His bowtie had come undone, but in all of his panic, it had slipped through his fingers and was lost somewhere in the darkness. In the closet, his heartbeat seemed to drown out the sighs of the couple. Self-consciously, he placed a hand against his chest, as if to mask the sound. But nothing could drown out his guilt, which seemed to scream louder than anything else. He hated this situation he had gotten himself into. 

Once the two had finished and fallen asleep, Taggart had snuck out. His heart still pounding, he dashed for the elevator and then made his way home. Nobody noticed him. But even as he reminded himself of the fact, it was not enough to bring him solace. The thoughts, whether from the dream or the situation in the hotel room were never going to leave him alone. 


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Taggart had made sure to keep well away from her, spending extra time in his office or talking to people who were more closely connected with Washington. 

“I don’t care what you do! Arrest Rearden if that’s what it takes. Other smaller companies will not be dwarfed by his so-called superior metal.” He barked at the phone. But no matter how hard he tried, it was far too late. A series of angry complaints continued to bombard the line. He could feel his blood pressure rise. Cautiously, he tried to inform each person that he was doing everything he could in his power to prevent it. Yet the same responses snapped back at him.  

_You’re only doing this for power and money.  
_

_You’re just like any other rich person. You don’t care for people. Neither you nor your sister.  
_

_Why are you letting this slide? You are supposed to be looking out for the people, not for yourself._

He slammed the phone back on its cradle, hands over his eyes. “Why won’t they leave me alone?!” He whined. “I’ve done nothing wrong! I’m not the bad guy.”

“Taggart, there’s another person...” His secretary started to say, 

“WHO?!” Taggart roared, sitting up suddenly. But the secretary merely nodded at the doorway and then left the room without another word. She did not want to deal with any more of his fits. 

Dagny had come in, taking a seat on the arm of the chair. 

“Why can’t you sit normally?” Taggart sighed, even more irritated that it was she out of all people who had come to see him. 

“I wanted to ask you something…” Dagny began, taking out a piece of paper from a beige folder.  

“NO! No more! I can’t do any more for anyone today!” Taggart cried, not even bothering to look at what she was about to show him. She had no idea of the ordeal he had been through and probably did not care anyway. 

But still, she got up from the chair and went over to his desk, holding out the paper for him. Despite his complaints, he proceeded to snatch the sheet from her. There was no way she was going to be ahead of him in all of the operations and now that she was handing information to him, he had to take it. Yet as he grabbed for the sheet desperately, their fingers briefly touched. A jolt of energy, like an electric shock caused him to pull away, bewildered. He had heard what people had said about the way people would feel such a sensation as they touched the hands of people they lusted...

He stopped the thought immediately. “Get out!” Taggart demanded, “Get out now!” 

It was only after she had left that he had looked at the sheet properly. It was a contract further clarifying the deal with the metal, a deal that with or without his signature would still go ahead and ruin lives. His life.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

He stormed into her office. Dagny stood facing the window, her face obscured by the shadow. As he came closer, she spun around to look at him.

“You’re making a mistake.” He said firmly, his voice confident.  “If you think I will let you use this metal for your own gain, you clearly don’t know what I am capable of.”

“And what are you capable of?” Dagny asked, a small smile appearing on her lips. She stepped closer to him, her eyes narrowed. “Show me.”

He gulped. “Well, the papers for a start. They reveal…”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t care about the papers. They never make sense. Get to the point, Jim. Show me. Show me exactly what you mean.” With a flourish, she had unraveled her bun. The long, fine hair that he had always dreamt about, the same hair that tickled and tantalised him was all available for him to see. He backed away; terrified that she would see how excited it had made him feel. But she would not let him leave so easily. “Take a seat.”

It sounded like an order. “No!” He tried to say, but his throat had become dry. His knees buckled and before he knew it, he was sitting on the chair, trembling like a mischievous school boy in the principal’s office.

“Show me...” She said again, placing a heel on the chair, directly between his thighs. “You do love to talk, don’t you? When you are given the chance to speak, why are you so quiet?” 

“This is…this is…” He started to say, sweating fiercely “You can’t…we…we can’t do this.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” She was smirking at his misery. The bitch. But then he felt a strange sense of relief as her eyes had become sullen, even slightly sad. “I know, Jim.” 

“What do you know?” Taggart asked nervously, his voice too high pitched for his liking, “I have nothing to hide!” Trails of perspiration from his hands dampened the dark leather, revealing the truth he had desperately tried to conceal. 

She laughed softly, her eyes still not leaving his. “That you snuck into my hotel room, Jim.” Her fingers reached into her pocket and drew out a small, thin black piece of material. It was his bowtie.

“So what?!” Taggart said after a pause, trying to regain his composure, “Lots of people have that tie. Why, that Henry Rearden…”

Her eyes widened in satisfaction. He felt his heart sink. It was a reckless move. “So, you did know that Rearden had visited me.” She responded calmly. Taggart’s eyes darted away from hers frightened that she had now found his secret. “If you had wanted to see me, why didn’t you just knock?” Her heel was still in between his legs.

“I..I didn’t think you wanted visitors.” Taggart admitted sheepishly, shaking slightly. “I have to go…”

“Why did you come here to see me, then?” Dagny asked, catching him unawares. He looked back at her, the beautiful, yet familiar face framed by the long, wild hair, his heart in his throat.

“It doesn’t matter anymore! You have your metal! You have everything your way! It’s always about you! Always! Ever since we were young, you’ve never been concerned about anyone but yourself!” Taggart cried, closing his eyes against her. He could not let her see his weakness, but it was showing too much and too easily. What he would give for her to show even the slightest bit of concern for him, “Nothing matters anymore.” He added softly, hopelessly. It was too late. A single tear escaped and fell down his cheek, a crack in his already fragile facade.

A hand tugged at his tie, causing him to open his eyes. “This matters.” She responded softly, moving towards him, and at that moment their lips had finally met. It was the answer to the problem that he had been struggling to face for a long time and like everything she had done, so straight to the point. Her lips had felt so soft and so cool, just like in the dream. But shortly after she drew away from his, a harder, more forceful kiss returned. His breath was shaky, desperate and subconsciously, he was grabbing onto the suit before him, only realising now how much he had needed her.

“Dagny I…”

She placed a finger to his lips, before neatly setting herself onto his lap. He felt the long legs against his thighs and blushed, hoping that she could not feel his growing erection. “Don’t say another word.” She said firmly, no-nonsense as if she were giving an order on the railroad rather than addressing a lover.

He bowed his head, feeling somewhat emasculated from being ordered around, and yet also excited. She slowly undid the tie, only to then use it to wrap around his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked, flinching. Even from his conversations with male colleagues about the women they were with, there was nothing said about blindfolding.

“Don’t speak. Just relax.” Dagny responded mechanically. He felt a pair of hands sweep against his slightly sweat-drenched shirt, so soft and cool against the heat of the room. Behind the blindfold, he closed his eyes, still breathing heavily as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt. It was torture. He wished for her to take him straight away so he could cast the sin of what he felt out of his mind. Finally, she had taken the shirt off and folded it neatly beside him.

He clutched at his chest self-consciously. He could not recall the last time a woman had seen him without a shirt on and from working at the desk, he was aware that his figure would not be quite as chiseled as that of Hank Rearden. Dagny giggled, amazed by the change in his usual confident, loud personality. “Oh Jim, why are you so shy?” She took his hands off his chest, kissing each one gently. He tensed, struggling to pull away from her. This was not how he had planned. She had no right to control him, the perfect sibling who constantly controlled Taggart Transcontinental. He had vowed to destroy her and yet under her touch, he was crumbling. He hated how she was speaking to him like he was lower than her, and yet she was providing him with the sympathy and doting that he had always desired.

The thought was interrupted when he felt her hand on his groin, smirking at his humiliation. Even though covered, there was no way he could hide his own excitement. As if reading his thoughts, she unzipped his trousers. This was more than he had expected. Even though he was partially naked, the room felt even more stifling, as if someone had turned on the heater. She was now on her knees, the strong, cool hands taking hold of what was so personal to him and bringing it out in the open. He shivered as she took him into her mouth, her teeth gently scraping against him. As she moved her tongue over his length, he instinctively grabbed hold of the arms of the chair, the only support he could have even though he was sinking further. The blindfold may have helped conceal the scene, but he did not have to take it off to see exactly what she was doing.

He tried to muffle his moans as she worked her tongue over him, yet every time he had thought he had succeeded and repressed his pleasure, she defied him, her gestures becoming more intense against him. It was no different to when they worked together. Everything she had done was always an act of defiance against him, and was somehow always better, always more powerful than anything he had done. In anger he bit his lip, trying to hold back yet at that moment, the climax was upon him and he pulled away with a shout.

After she had let him go, he pulled off the blindfold, expecting to see her looking as wounded as he had felt. But even with her tousled hair, she was still immaculate and still looking as indifferent. He blushed, surveying the mess he had created whilst she neatly picked up her suit coat from a chair and slipped it back on, smoothing the creases.

“God damn it, Dagny…what have we done?!” He moaned in terror, hastily dressing himself again. Upon seeing her smirk, he felt his heart skip a beat. “No wait, I’m not saying I didn’t like that.” He got to his feet, tensely putting a hand on her arm, “Um…is there a way…a way that we can…um…”

“Tomorrow night.” She responded promptly, “Nine ‘o clock sharp at Jacobsen’s*.”

He looked back at her, puzzled as she made her way to the door. “But where is that?” He asked, a little too late. She had already left.

 


	7. Chapter 7

At eight-thirty, he was rushing through the streets, trying to figure out where the restaurant was. Normally he would have asked directions from his secretary, yet if anyone knew that he was going to have dinner with his sister, they would be asking questions. He could not bear to be interrogated for something he knew was completely wrong. 

To his surprise, it did not take him long to find the restaurant. Unlike the ones he had visited which were largely opulent, this one appeared more sterile and cold. The lack of decorations bothered him, for it was so harsh and so clear. There was not a single distraction in sight, for everything that was placed in the restaurant had served its purpose. He saw Dagny already sitting there at a table, staring out of the window. Typical Dagny. Always a step ahead. She looked at him, beckoning him with a smile and he found himself walking over and sitting down directly across from her, his cheeks burning in shame. Like the restaurant, she wore few accessories, and beneath her coat, he could see that she was wearing a dress that clung to her figure. 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that…” He muttered, his eyes downcast as he tried to prevent himself from looking at her for too long. “What if someone finds us?”

“So? We’re just having dinner. People do that.” She responded calmly, her tone more condescending rather than reassuring. Upon seeing his unease, she patted him on the hand, “Don’t worry, Jim. Nobody will know. Not unless you tell them of course.” Upon saying that, Taggart tried to block out the expressions that the Washington boys would have, if they found out.

“I guess you’re right.”’ Taggart admitted, his gaze sweeping over the length of her arm and up towards her neck and shoulders. He shuddered as he visualised grabbing hold of those shoulders, pinning her to the stark white wall and taking her there, completely against her control. Just for once, he wanted to control her, to do better than she always had. But even as she sat before him, unaware of his dark thoughts, he knew that she would fight him back stronger. The whole notion was pointless and he let go of the thought at once.

For a few minutes, the two sat silently, barely speaking a word. Taggart hated the silence although Dagny was indifferent to it. After they had ordered, she calmly sipped her beverage, staring past him as if he was not there. This was infuriating, and at one point he panicked that maybe she had forgotten about what had passed between them. But then, as he sat in fear, she met his gaze, and he could see a small smile on her lips.

"Well, say something!" He hissed, leaning forward in his seat. The smile spread wider, as if mocking his desperation.

"What do you want me to say, _dear brother_?" 

He flushed, his eyes darting back to the table. "Damn it, Dagny! Must you speak to me like that?!" From the corner of his eye, she was still smiling at him.

"I just like to see your reaction when you're like this, Jim." She responded innocently, taking another sip of her drink. As he was about to force himself to laugh it off, he saw someone briefly walking into the restaurant. 

The manicured nails, the straight posture...could it be?

"What is he doing here?!" Taggart asked rudely, pointing at him. The homeless man had no right to be here. This was to be a place for only them. His presence in the quiet, less populated restaurant was too jarring for him to handle, as if single loose thread unravelling from a well-tailored suit.  Dagny followed where his finger was pointing, but she shrugged and turned her attention elsewhere.

But Taggart could not sit still. The homeless man had met his eyes, and the same, proud expression had come back. He was almost smirking at him, as if he had known something that Taggart had been hiding from everyone. It was a threatening glare, accusing, almost. But with the smile, it just made matters worse.

"What do you want from me?!" Taggart asked feverishly.

"Nothing." The man replied calmly, his eyes too knowing and too sure.

Taggart spun around angrily to Dagny, grabbing his coat, "Forget this! Forget the order. We have to go!"

Even though Dagny was surprised, she followed his orders. As they made it back to his apartment, he was shaking so much that he had to have a drink.

"What happened, back there?" She asked finally, watching her brother clutching onto the glass tensely, his eyes darting backwards and forwards guiltily.

"That man..." Taggart panted, unable to let go of the glass "He _knows_. Someone must have told him." Suddenly his heart leaped and his eyes filled in fury as he addressed her, "Did you say something?!"

She took his glass from his hand, placing it on the table beside him and took a seat on the arm of the chair, "No. What benefit would it serve for me?" The response was so selfish and she was not even aware of how furious it had made him. As he stared into those cold, grey eyes before him, he had wanted to take her more than ever, to assert his domination and defy her. It would be the greatest achievement, to finally defeat someone who always had her way. He grabbed her arm, pulling her to the bedroom and closing the door behind them, even though they were the only people in the apartment. Dagny did not seem to struggle or show any fear. As the steely gaze continued to burn into him, he had suddenly lost all self-control and confidence. Trembling, he let her go, to which she had taken the next step, pulling him towards her. 

As she took him into his arms, he spotted a crane outside the window that was lifting a load. In the dying sunlight, the load shone in a green-blue colour, which deepened his envy. It was too late and he knew it. He may have lost control of the railroad, but at least he was going to have her and now, he needed to control her more than ever. He was going to be better than Hank Rearden and all of the others he hated. For a split second, he wished that the homeless man were sitting before them, watching the scene. _That would show him_ , Taggart thought bitterly.

Noticing how deep in thought he was, Dagny had pushed him onto the bed, discarding her suit. To Taggart's frustration, she still wore her lingerie, showing enough of her figure to make him desire her, but not enough skin to fully be satisfied. She had taken off his clothes as he lay entranced.

She smiled a cold, harsh smile that seemed to make her appear all the more beautiful and yet cruel. To her, it was as if he were glass, with every thought, every guilty feeling too clear but needed to be held down, so to prevent him from breaking. He struggled beneath her, yet they both knew how badly he had wanted her to control him. Against his knowledge, she had taken out a couple of neckties from his closet. Taking his wrists, she tied them to the bedposts. He gasped as the ties cut into him, but she did nothing to relieve him of his pain. The fine strands tickled his hair again as their lips met once more. He bit into hers, yet she merely licked her lips appreciatively, not at all bothered by the pain. She had taken a seat on his torso again, as he struggled in torture, dying to remove her panties. If she were just excited as he was, it would be a moment of achievement that he would remember. 

As she moved down his body, she planted hard kisses that bruised his pale flesh. He gasped as she would later run her tongue against those areas, a short moment of relief before the pain continued. He writhed in his bonds, desperately wanting to be freed, but at the same time enjoying her taking control, as if she were controlling the railroad.

"My wrists are killing me..." He whined,

Dagny threw her head back to laugh and he knew that he had definitely lost this battle. "Bad luck." Her hand had touched his cheek, almost tenderly as if to wipe the perspiration from his face, as well as the last of his pride "But if you're good, I might let you go. But Jim...do you really want me to let you go?"

Taggart merely stared into her eyes, still entranced and needy for her affection. They both knew exactly what the answer was.

"Just as I thought." She responded.

Upon seeing his expression, she began to unclasp her bra and discarded her panties. Taggart had turned several shades redder than before, trying to look away in guilt. She chuckled at his embarrassment, which had seemed to be somewhat endearing. Stroking his wrists, she began to slide closer to his face, until she was sitting directly on top of it.

Immediately, he planted several kisses in her inner thighs, trying to cause an intense reaction. She had her hands in his hair, still indifferent to his kisses. Desperately, he worked his tongue on her the way she had on him during their first encounter. She sighed, but it was still not the reaction he had wanted. The tender kisses had changed to rougher ones, until her sighs became deeper. He wanted her to gasp in pain, but instead she moaned in pleasure, giggling at his efforts. Suddenly, she was tugging his hair, until finally she had come.

A sense of pride washed over him as he realised that he had made this happen. Just like Rearden and all of the other men who he thought he could not defeat, he had taken Dagny and caused her to feel as much pleasure. _I did it_. He thought in amazement.  


As promised, he felt the bonds loosen as she kissed him deeply, a reward that he had been waiting to receive for a long time. Then, the two embraced and intensified their sinful encounter...

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

He opened his eyes, knowing that he had done the impossible. He had defied society's standards and had taken Dagny Taggart of all people to bed. Yet even though he was aware of her form lying beside him, he realised in dismay that it had made no difference. He had always feared value and success, always trying to prevent those more successful from doing better than he did. Hours before, he had her right where he had hungered for so long, thinking that he had finally taken the value that he knew was wrong, but that he deserved. But even as he tried to catch his breath from what was an exhilarating, yet sinful moment it had all been for nothing. The room had darkened considerably and he could not see outside of the window, but he knew that by now the railroad was being built right outside out it, all against his control.  What then, was his purpose in all of this?

_What do you want, Mr Taggart?_

He remembered the homeless man with his knowing eyes and confident, upright posture. How he hated him for making him feel lesser than he did. He had absolutely no right and yet he did. Because, even though the homeless man had not been able to talk to Taggart to find out what was the matter, he knew regardless. They all did. And now he knew as well.  He did not know what he truly wanted, although he had fooled himself into thinking that he did. Even as he lay in the gloom, it was as if a harsh, bright light had shone directly on his exposed body and only a piercing cry could be heard.*

 

In the dark room a shell of a man lay, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

**Author's Note:**

> *Footnotes for explanations:
> 
> Jacobsen’s: A fictitious restaurant in New York that is symbolically more like Dagny Taggart’s personality in that it is clear and without ornamentation. It is a place that James despises, for he has been more comforted in hiding himself.
> 
> “…it was as if a harsh, bright light had shone directly on his exposed body and only a piercing cry could be heard.”: This scene, while not taken directly from the novel is based on James Taggart’s emotional breakdown that he eventually has in Atlas Shrugged as he realises that he lacks a purpose other than destroying the success of others.


End file.
